When It's Over
by Anna-B-206
Summary: Doyle is dead and Emily Prentiss gets her life back.
1. Chapter 1

It wasn't the BAU's case anymore, but that didn't prevent Hotch from following the investigation and doing what he could to assist in tracking down Ian Doyle. He worried at times what the appropriate level of concern for a person in his position should be. Of course, Morgan, Rossi, Reid, Seaver, and Garcia were all intensely interested in finding Doyle and bringing him to justice. But they had a calm sense of determination about it. For them, Emily was already dead. The urgency was over. He was worried that they would be able to sense something different about his own interest in the case. If he had to put a name to the feeling that overcame him when he thought about her - utterly alone, hunting him down - it would be _panic_. And as there was no way he could communicate with her, there was nothing that could alleviate this panic. So he controlled it as best he could, and tried to model his behavior after Rossi's. Angry, grief-stricken, methodical, and resigned to the fact that the only thing they could do for Emily now was catch her killer.

JJ couldn't give him any information beyond her initial confirmation that Emily was, in fact, alive. As much as he wanted to press for details, or get Garcia to hack into whatever database she needed to for information, he understood protocol, and that the reason for all the secrecy was Emily's safety (and their own). So he never pushed, and that tightening in his chest when he thought about her never went away.

The team was coping. Every day got a little easier. Almost a year had gone by. JJ was back at the BAU, which helped the team immensely, professionally and in dealing with the personal loss of Emily's absence. Hotch was proud of the way they had carried on. And yet, when he thought about Emily (it was not lost on him that he always thought of her as Emily now and not Prentiss) he realized that he missed her now almost more than in the weeks immediately following her "death." She was a great Agent and a skilled profiler. But she also brought a spark to the team – her sense of humor, her ability to make them smile. It wasn't something he could define, but the team was somehow diminished without her.

If he was being honest, he just missed her. Not her presence as a member of the team. Just her. He missed her. She was his friend, and she had lost literally everything in her life because of Ian Doyle. She was alone. Her friends thought she was dead. She didn't even have her own name anymore. He hoped that she could get it all back someday. He hoped Ian Doyle would pay for what he had done to her. He hoped, more than anything, that she was safe.

* * *

><p>He was in the middle of signing off on a stack of reports when JJ burst through his door without knocking. Puzzled, he watched as she shut and locked the door behind her and closed the shades. She very purposefully walked over to his desk. She didn't bother sitting down, but rather placed her hands on his desk as if to brace herself as she said the two words he had so longed to hear: "Doyle's dead." He dropped the pen from his hand and stood up as well.<p>

Hotch responded with one word, "Emily?"

"He was bouncing around Europe from country to country. The last piece of intel Emily was able to get had him in Germany. The Interpol team was able to locate him before he moved on. A German SWAT team moved in right away. He went down shooting. But he is confirmed dead."

JJ paused, as if the news she was about to deliver to Hotch was just sinking in for her as well. "She's… she's in Paris. Her debriefing is wrapping up this week. A few more days of paperwork and signing statements, and that's it. It's over."

Hotch was surprised to find himself close to tears. After everything that had happened… It was over. It was too overwhelming. JJ continued, "They said one of us can go." Though he was technically never supposed to know that the government had faked Emily's death, the leads on the case knew that Hotch knew the truth. "You should go."

Hotch looked at her questioningly. It was no secret that Emily and JJ were good friends. He figured that she would want to see her as soon as possible.

"I saw her in Paris. Right after she arrived there. I know this has been eating you alive, Hotch. And it will be good for Emily to see another friendly face. Plus, it's easier for you to get away without it seeming weird. We can say you're doing a consult in Oregon or something. Will and I can even watch Jack, if you want."

"He's at his grandparents for the week. I… when?"

"They're holding a seat on a commercial flight tonight."

"I just need to call Jack's grandparents and go home to pack."

"I'll send the details to your phone. And don't forget your passport."

JJ turned to leave, but paused before she walked away. She and Hotch stared at each other for a moment, their faces showing bewilderment at the sudden turn of events, relief that their friend was alive, and joy that she could finally come home. They both broke into a smile. Hotch even chuckled, until he noticed that JJ's smile had disappeared.

"Make sure she's really ok, Hotch."

Hotch's face became serious as well. He nodded earnestly.

"And call me the second you can."

"I will." JJ started walking away when a thought struck him. "The team. What do we do about the team?"

"We make sure Emily's ok first, and then, I guess we figure it out from there."

* * *

><p>Hotch made sure he had enough Advil PM to help him sleep on the flight to Paris. He knew he wouldn't be able to fall asleep on his own, and he didn't want to be jetlagged or groggy when he made it to Emily. As JJ had told him, there was a driver waiting for him when he collected his suitcase. He cursed the traffic as the gendarme drove him into the city. He had no idea where he was going, but the car finally stopped at a hotel not terribly far away from Les Invalides.<p>

The French officer helped Hotch collect his suitcase from the car and then turned toward the entrance. "If you would follow me, sir."

Hotch nodded and followed the man inside. He spoke quickly to the desk clerk inside and then walked back over to Hotch, handing him a key card. "Room 317. Your colleague knows how to contact us if you require anything." After shaking Hotch's hand, the man turned and walked out the door.

Hotch took a moment to collect himself after he stepped off the elevator on the third floor. He was expecting to see her in a police station or other type of government building, surrounded by Interpol officials and CIA agents. He could not deny how anxious he was when he knocked on the door of room 317. He heard what sounded like a person approaching the door, then silence for a few seconds. He guessed she was checking the peephole.

For a solid ten seconds, they stood facing each other – Emily holding the door open and Hotch holding his suitcase – neither saying a word. Hotch was still frozen when she suddenly stepped forward and threw her arms around his neck. It took only a second for him to drop his suitcase and wrap his arms around her.

In all the years that he had known her, he had never hugged Emily. This was, by far, the closest contact they'd ever had. He was aware that his tight embrace was decidedly un-Hotch-like behavior. But he was also aware that didn't want to let her go just yet. And technically, he wasn't even sure that he was her supervisor at the moment. He didn't know what the status was of her personnel file at the FBI – she was, after all, officially deceased. Her career was one more thing that Doyle may have taken from her. So he let himself tighten his hold on her and pull her a little closer to assure himself that she was really here. Without letting her go, he asked quietly, "Are you alright, Emily?"

She loosened herself from his grip and placed her hands gently on his shoulders. "It's over."

It was not lost on him that this was not an answer to his question, but he supposed that she hadn't had time to process everything yet.

She turned back toward the door of her room for a second, and then turned back and smiled. Seeing that smile again struck Hotch like a physical blow. He hadn't realized how much he missed it.

"I think I just locked us out of the room." When she rushed forward to hug Hotch, she had let the door close behind her.

He shook himself out of his reverie in time to stop her from walking toward the elevator. "I have a key. I think. The man who brought me here gave it to me." He tried it, and seeing the green light, opened the door and gestured for her to lead the way. Hotch grabbed his suitcase and followed her inside.


	2. Chapter 2

Hotch followed Emily inside the room and dropped his suitcase a few feet inside the door. He was pleased to see that Interpol, or the Bureau, or the CIA… whoever was putting her up, at least sprung for a nice room.

Emily sat on the small couch facing the bed. Hotch took her lead and sat down on the opposite end of the couch. He couldn't gain control of his brain. His thoughts were spinning and he couldn't think of where to begin. She gave him a shy smile and stood up.

"Fully stocked mini bar. What can I get you?"

"Uh, anything would be fine. Thanks."

She grabbed a bottle of Jameson and two glasses. "I'm out of ice, but I can try to get some."

"No, don't worry about it."

She poured them each a healthy glass of whisky and sat back down. Hotch watched her take a sip from her glass. He took a pull from his glass, glancing out the window and wondering where to start the conversation. When he looked back at her, he could see her eyes pooling with tears. He instinctively leaned toward her.

"Emily -"

"I'm fine," she cut him off. "Really. I just… Thank you for coming here, Hotch. You don't know how much it means… I thought I'd never see any of you again. Or that you wouldn't want to see me."

"Emily." He waited until she looked up at him. He didn't know how to go about explaining how much they missed her. How they would have done anything to have her back. How they understood why she did what she did, even if they had wished she had done things differently. How they would forgive her anything.

He didn't think it was possible to articulate everything that he needed her to understand. "When can you come home?"

That simple question nearly broke her. And though she managed to stifle the sob that threatened to rise from her chest, she was not able to keep a few silent tears from spilling. Home. It was something she thought would never exist for her anymore. And here was Hotch, who had flown across the ocean to see her, asking her when she was coming home. Because the implication in that question was that there were people who cared about her coming back.

"I, uh… I have to stay here for another couple of days, and then that's it. I don't know what to do after that."

It was true. She had no idea what to do with her life and her sudden freedom. She didn't know what she would do if she wasn't constantly moving around and repeating her latest fake name to herself like a mantra.

"Then I'll stay here until you can come home."

The tears continued to stream from her eyes. She was still averting her eyes from him. He studied her face and noticed the strain before she tentatively asked, "The team?"

He knew they'd have to talk about the team, and that it would be difficult for her.

"They've missed you. It was hard. Losing you."

He could see how painful this was for her, and he understood how much she hated herself for what they went through. "Emily." He wanted her to look at him, but she couldn't. "It will take them some time to process everything, but you have to know that they will understand. They know that you were trying to protect us. They will understand that your life and theirs depended on Ian Doyle thinking you were dead. In the end, all that will matter is that you're alive, and safe."

She finally looked up at him, gauging his facial expressions. He had meant every word that he said, and tried to convey that through his eyes.

"I've missed them so much."

He nodded. They sat in silence then for long enough for them to finish their drinks and pour another.

"So tell me everything," Emily said halfway through the second drink.

"Believe it or not, not that much has changed. At least not that they've told me." They both smiled at that.

Emily finished the last sip of her drink and turned to look him in the eye. "I panicked. When I heard he was back. I panicked and I froze. If I… I can't say, now, that I wish I could go back and do things differently. But… I wish I would have gone to you."

"You're alive. And you're safe. So I'm not going to wish anything had happened differently. But I wish I could have helped you." They looked at each other for a moment before Emily turned away to refill her glass.

Their last exchange seemed to take a weight off of Emily's shoulders. "So no weddings or babies? No Nobel Prizes for Reid?"

Hotch laughed as he took the bottle from Emily to refill his glass. "The team is 100% single. Just Jack and Henry for kids, and – oh damn. JJ is going to kill me. I promised her a call as soon as I could." He took his phone out of his pocket.

"Well, you better call her then."

"It's not me she's interested in talking to." He took out the phone and dialed JJ. "Did you want some privacy…?" he motioned with the phone.

"No. Stay. Can you put it on speaker?"

He had no sooner hit the speakerphone button than they heard JJ's eager voice. "Hotch? Did you see her? Is she alright?"

"JJ," Emily said.

"Oh my god. Emily. Are you ok? When are you coming home?"

Emily smiled. "I have to stay in Paris for a couple more days."

"It's so good to hear your voice. You get back here as soon as you possibly can, do you understand me?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'm going to stay in Paris for a few days until all the loose ends get tied up here," Hotch chimed in.

"Good. I'll take care of things on this end until you're both home. Let me know when you're going to get back and we'll meet up and figure everything out."

Hearing Hotch and JJ talk about getting her home, about figuring things out - she felt all of the anxiety and fear she had about going back to DC drift away. She wasn't alone anymore.

"JJ," Emily broke in. "I… I don't know how to thank you for everything you've done for me. I…" Emily's voice broke.

"Just come back. As soon as you can. Ok?"

"Ok."

"We'll be in touch when we know more here, JJ," Hotch concluded.

"Be in touch even if you don't know anything. I'll talk to you both soon," JJ said, and hung up.

They spent the next few hours talking and drinking. Emily gave Hotch a very general description of how she had spent the last year. Traveling from place to place nearly constantly both to track Doyle and prevent anyone from being able to possibly discover her. By the time she had made it to the end of the story, the bottle of Jameson was gone.

A thought suddenly occurred to Hotch as he noticed Emily yawn. "I don't know where I'm staying. They just dropped me off here from the airport."

"The adjoining room. They rented that one out along with this one. You're straight through that door." Emily nodded toward the door behind Hotch.

"Well, I should let you get some sleep."

Hotch got up - not without a slight wobble due to the whisky - grabbed his suitcase, and set it down next to the door adjoining their rooms. Emily stood up as well, and stepped closer to him near the door.

"Thank you so much for coming here, Hotch."

This time it was Hotch who stepped to Emily and enveloped her in a warm hug. She responded by wrapping her arms around his waist. She pressed her cheek against his chest and he buried his face in her hair.

"Breakfast in the morning?" he mumbled.

"Yeah," she replied, softly. "Hotch?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you mind if we leave the door open?"

"No. Not at all."

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Emily."

They each went into their respective bathrooms to change. Hotch had his light out first. Emily settled into her bed and turned out the bedside lamp. She could hear Hotch shift under his covers from across the rooms. The sound made her feel… at peace. Safe. Home. She fell asleep almost instantly.


	3. Chapter 3

They had a quick breakfast at the hotel restaurant before Emily was picked up to continue finalizing her statements and reports. Hotch spent the morning walking around Paris. He hadn't been there in ages and had forgotten how beautiful it was. He got a call around one in the afternoon from a local Paris number. It was Emily.

"I'm done. With everything. They asked me to stay here one more night, but then I'm free to go."

"That's great, Emily. Where are you now?"

"Just walking to a Metro station. I'm a little tired of being driven around in police cars. Did you eat lunch yet? I'm starving."

"No, I've just been wandering around the city all morning."

The food at the café near the Garnier Opera was as good as Emily had promised him it would be.

By the end of the afternoon, they had tickets on a flight to DC for the next morning. After a brief stop at the hotel to freshen up, Hotch asked if she might be up for some more sightseeing.

"I know you've probably had about enough of this city for a while, but,"

"Actually," Emily interrupted, "I don't think it's possible to get tired of Paris. A long walk and some fresh air seem pretty perfect right now."

So they spent the afternoon wandering around the city. It was dark by the time they were hungry enough again to sit down for dinner. They sat at a café along the Seine and had a view from afar of the Eiffel Tower. They finished a bottle of wine as they talked about the time Emily spent in Paris growing up, and about Jack's future as the next David Beckham. It was a nice break for both of them, simply enjoying each other's company and having a pleasant conversation that did not involve death and violence. Of course, Emily's year off the grid hunting an international arms dealer and terrorist was the elephant in the room. Oddly enough though, they both seemed fine leaving that subject untouched.

The waiter knew immediately that Hotch was American, and as he was clearing their plates away, asked what had brought them to Paris. Emily explained, in French, that they were just visiting the beautiful city and were going back to the U.S. the next day. The waiter was so impressed with Emily's French that he came back a few moments later with a complimentary bottle of wine.

It occurred to Hotch that if someone were to take a photo of this moment… well, it wouldn't exactly be a picture of appropriate FBI professional decorum. It seemed that his brain instinctively jumped to protocol, rules, professional conduct – even thousands of miles away from the office. But again it struck him – was it inappropriate to have a dinner (with two bottles of wine, no less) with a subordinate agent if said agent's photo was on the Memorial Wall at Quantico? Emily was stuck in some sort of limbo.

"Have you thought about…" Hotch's words fell flat. There were so many things he could finish that question with that he couldn't articulate one. "I'll do whatever I can to help you get back on the team. If that's what you want."

She was so tired. She had the best few nights of sleep in a long time after she got word that Doyle was dead, but she somehow felt more exhausted than ever. She felt weary. It wasn't that she didn't miss the team or find her work at the BAU extremely fulfilling. She just didn't know if she had that in her right now. And she didn't know if and when that would change. She decided to respond to Hotch's sincere offer honestly (the wine flowing through her bloodstream probably encouraged frankness as well).

"I'm so tired, Hotch. I miss my friends. I miss having a real life. And that's what I want to get back." She looked down and softly bit her lip. "If I can."

"I understand, Emily. And you know you have me and JJ. Not just at the Bureau."

She gave him a grateful smile, then narrowed her eyes and said, with a small grin, "You said nothing has changed, but you're different."

"Different?"

"Yeah. You're like, a kinder, gentler Hotch. Would you have admitted to being my friend outside of work a year ago?"

"I…"

"Thank you, Hotch."

"Was I really that bad?"

"I didn't say 'bad.' Just… more closed off. Official and, I don't know, straight-laced."

He chuckled a bit as he watched her struggle for ways to politely call him a hard-ass.

"And now?"

"Now you're a hugger."

He laughed outright at that, causing her to smile.

"So what gives?" she continued.

"Must be all the sedatives."

"Joking, even!" she said, raising her eyebrows.

"I don't know. I guess, I realized that I was… a bit of a control freak." He looked down at the table. "It was a way to think about only what I wanted to. And not deal with what I didn't _want_ to deal with. Sort of… compartmentalizing," he said, looking up at her.

She nodded and gave him a sad smile.

"Anyway. I started talking to someone. Professionally, I mean." She thought she detected a slight flush on his face when he admitted this.

"That's good, Hotch."

"I needed to do it. For Jack. He's getting older. Picking up on more. He deserves… well he deserves a lot."

"You're a good dad."

"I'm trying."

"For the record, you're a good friend, too."

The waiter appeared with the check. They left him a generous tip and started walking back to the hotel.

"You know, Emily. If you want to talk about it, you can. To me, or I can refer you to someone through the Bureau."

"I will. I know that I have to. And I will."

"Good."

They arrived in their rooms and packed their bags for the morning flight.

Just before Emily fell asleep, she noticed that Hotch had left the door adjoining the rooms open again, without her having to ask. Her alarm woke her at 6:30 the next morning after a night of uninterrupted sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

_AN: Comments and suggestions are appreciated. This is a bit of a longer update, but it seemed like this should all go together._

Emily insisted on getting a hotel room when they got back to DC, despite Hotch and JJ's offers of a room for her to stay. She still had a fair amount of cash that she'd had access to under her other identities, and she didn't want to put Hotch or JJ out. Plus, fearing how the rest of the team would react to the news that Hotch and JJ knew she was alive, she didn't want to make the situation more awkward by having them also find out she was currently living in their home.

JJ picked them up at the airport. After a reunion full of tears and hugs, she drove them to the hotel. After dropping off Emily's things in the room, they went down to the lounge to discuss what to do next.

None of them had any experience orchestrating a back-from-the-dead reveal, so there was a great deal of uncertainty as to the best way to break the news. After a brief discussion, they decided that at the very least, either Hotch or JJ should tell the team first. A dramatic entrance of "dead" Emily into a room seemed like a terrible idea – too overwhelming, too theatrical. The next decision they needed to make was where – where to tell them and where to have them meet Emily afterward. They decided that they wanted to tell them as soon as possible, but would wait until the next day to let some of the jetlag wear off.

"What about here? It won't be too crowded, most likely, and the bar area has spaces that are pretty closed off," JJ offered.

"JJ and I can gather everyone in the conference room at the end of the day to tell them, and drive them here afterward."

Emily agreed that it was probably the best possible plan. That didn't mean she wasn't nauseas at the thought of it. What if they were too upset, too angry to want to see her? This was going to be like a punch in the gut to them – after everything they had already been through – and it was all her fault.

Seeing how upset she was, JJ reached across the table and placed her hand over Emily's. "It'll be ok, Em. I know this is hard now, but you're getting your life back."

"Thank you, JJ."

"And stop saying 'thank you.' You thank me. I got it. Enough."

Emily smiled at her.

"Is there anything in particular you want us to say to them tomorrow?" Hotch asked.

Emily shook her head. "Just… how sorry I am for doing this to them. I know you two will do the best you can. And I'm sorry if they're upset with you because of what you did for me."

"JJ or I will text you when we're on our way tomorrow. I know it's probably pointless to tell you this, but try not to worry. And get a good night's sleep," Hotch said. "I have to get back to the office to take care of a few things. Call if you need anything." He stood up to leave.

Emily stood as well and gave him a quick hug, which Hotch returned. "Thanks for everything, Hotch."

"Oh, and I'm with JJ. No more 'thank yous'."

Hotch left. Emily sat back down and saw the amused smile on JJ's face. "What?"

"Nothing," she said with a grin. "Out of everyone, he's probably changed the most since…" she trailed off.

"Yeah, I've noticed."

"It's good though. He's more…"

"Human?"

"Yeah. So have you thought about what you're going to do next?"

"Yes and no. I need to get the logistics sorted out first. I mean, I don't even know how to go about that. Do I just show up at the DMV and say, 'Hi, I'm back from the dead. Can I have my license back?'"

JJ snickered, "That wouldn't even be the weirdest thing going down at the DMV. At least not the one I went to last."

Emily laughed. "Well, that kind of stuff is on the top of my To Do list. Find a place to live. Become a functional member of society again."

"Well I can give you some good news. Your bank accounts were frozen and assigned new account numbers under an alias, but I'll make the call to get those back in your name. I already had your SSN status changed – not the direction those updates usually go, but it's taken care of. You'll have to get new credit cards. Your mother had a storage unit in the area, so she upgraded to a larger one and most of your stuff is there. We figured that wouldn't necessarily look suspicious. A parent usually keeps her child's things after…" JJ paused and looked at Emily. "Have you seen her?"

"Yes, actually. She came to see me in Paris not long after I arrived there. An unscheduled side trip during her assignment. A first, I think."

JJ decided not to press any further, simply adding a, "Good."

"So credit cards, a phone, and a new apartment. There was no way to keep yours. Sorry."

Shaking her head, Emily said, "JJ, I can't tell you how grateful I am for everything you've done. And everything you did that I don't even know about. This is all… I know I can't say thank you, but can I just tell you that you took about 5000 pounds of weight off my back? It doesn't seem as overwhelming now."

"If anything else comes up, let me know. I still know where some strings are that are available for pulling, even though I'm not at the State Department anymore."

"I'm so glad you're back with the team. Hotch told me about the transfer. Or un-transfer, I guess."

"And I'm glad to be back."

"Now, I know you've got some pictures of Henry in that phone, so hand it over."

JJ smiled and moved her chair closer to Emily's. They spent the next several hours looking at pictures of Henry and catching up.

* * *

><p>Hotch knew that the team probably assumed they had a case when he summoned them into the conference room at 5:00 on Thursday afternoon.<p>

When the team started to filter in, Hotch and JJ were already in the room, talking quietly in the corner. Garcia was the last one to enter, and Hotch closed the door behind her. It didn't take them long to notice that JJ didn't have any files and there was nothing on the board.

"What's going on?" Rossi was the first to ask.

"There's something very important that we need to tell you."

"Oh no. Is it bad new? This is bad news, isn't it? You're not leaving again, Jayje?" Garcia rambled.

"No. No. It's… it's actually really good news, but… it's big. And, sort of a lot to process," JJ replied.

"Ok, so do you care to enlighten us?" Rossi piped in.

Hotch took over. "It's about Emily."

That got their attention quickly. Hotch noticed all their heads snap around to zero in on his face.

"Emily is alive." He figured the best approach would be to just spit it out instead of dragging it out with a lot of buildup.

"Alive?" Garcia gasped.

"Where is she?" Reid asked, leaning forward intently in his seat.

"She just arrived back in DC. She was in Europe over the past year, trying to gather intel on Doyle while remaining off the grid, obviously. And it was one of her tips that eventually led Interpol to where Doyle was located. He got into a shootout with a German SWAT team and was killed."

JJ looked around to gauge their reactions. Garcia was frozen in a stunned silence. Reid looked like he was going to jump out of his chair and start pacing any second. Rossi had a thoughtful expression on his face, his head tilted slightly upward as if putting all these new pieces of information together. Seaver looked like she was trying to recall every detail from the events leading up to Emily's "death." And Morgan looked… intense.

"You knew the whole time?" Morgan asked, obviously trying to control his voice.

"Yes." Hotch replied, evenly.

"How could you not tell us. You know we wouldn't have done anything to jeopardize her safety."

"It wasn't just her safety. If Doyle saw anyone acting off, he wouldn't hesitate to test us by going after one of us. He wouldn't wait to confirm anything. He had a sniper try to take out Rossi and Seaver to get to Emily. If he had the slightest hint that something was strange, he would have done it again."

"So you didn't trust us to handle the situation. But apparently you could," Morgan responded, spitefully.

"I'm the one who arranged this." Everyone turned away from the staring match going on between Hotch and Morgan to look at JJ now.

"I confirmed what Hotch had figured out. Authorizations were made above my pay grade, but I'm the one who set her up in Europe. I'm the one that lied to you. And I'm sorry for that. But I did what I had to do to keep everyone safe. You may not agree with it, but that's the decision I made. And you may hate me for it, but Emily is alive. And safe. And Doyle is dead. I'm not going to regret any of that."

A silence fell upon the room as JJ finished speaking.

Reid was the first one to speak up. "Can we see her?"

JJ felt a wave of relief wash over her after hearing Reid's question.

"Yes." Hotch answered. "She really wants to see all of you. And she asked us to tell you that she's sorry for everything. Listen… she's tearing herself apart because of what you've all been through. JJ and I can take you to her now, and I know it might be difficult – no one is denying that you have a right to be upset – but, try to take it easy on her. At least for tonight."

"Emily's alive." Garcia seemed to suddenly snap out of her trance. "What are we waiting for? Let's go." She stood up. "Now!"

Garcia's proclamation seemed to work. They all stood up and made their way to the parking ramp. Morgan and Garcia rode with JJ. Seaver, Reid and Rossi rode with Hotch. Before they drove away, Hotch sent a text to Emily.

There was very little conversation in either vehicle on the way to the hotel.

* * *

><p><em>On the way now. Everything will be fine.<em>

Emily read Hotch's text at least 20 times as she waited in the hotel. She couldn't help but notice his word choice. Everything _will be_ fine was not the same as everything _is _fine.

As Hotch got stuck at a stoplight behind JJ, her car was the first to arrive. The car hadn't even completely stopped moving when Garcia jumped out. "Where, JJ?" she asked, charging ahead to the doors of the hotel. JJ hurried to follow Garcia and noticed that Morgan wasn't moving.

"I just need a minute."

"Inside to the right. The bar area."

Morgan nodded and JJ jogged to catch up to Garcia.

"To the right," JJ yelled to Garcia as she burst through the hotel doors. Garcia turned on her heals and marched into the bar area. Emily had no sooner stood up from her chair than Garcia ran and enveloped her in a tearful hug.

"Don't you ever do that again," Garcia ordered, still clinging to Emily.

Neither of them let go of the other. "I got your message, PG."

Emily backed away so she could look Garcia in the eye. The tears started flowing freely as she repeated, softly, "I got your message." Not knowing what else to say, Emily simply pulled Garcia back in for another hug. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

"I'm still mad at you, you know. But at least you did what I told you to." Emily pulled back again with a confused look on her face. "You stayed alive. And you came home."

Garcia noticed Emily looking over her shoulder and turned to see Reid, Seaver, and Rossi approaching. Seaver and Rossi were smiling. The look on Reid's face was killing Emily – she could see he was battling tears. She squeezed Garcia's hand as she walked passed her and approached Reid.

Emily stopped a few feet in front of Reid and waited until he was able to look up at her. "You're really here," he said, almost in a whisper. She reached out to take one of his hands in hers.

"I'm really here, Reid. And I'm sorry for what I put you all through."

"Are you… ok?" she whispered to him so no one could hear. She thought about him confiding in her about his headaches a lot over the last year, and had worried about him.

He looked her in the eye and saw his friend. Emily. Emily was back.

"I'm so glad you're back," he said, leaning forward to circle his arms around her waist in a hug. She hugged him back. She knew she would have to give him some time before they sat down and had a serious talk.

She exchanged greetings and hugs with Seaver and Rossi as JJ and Hotch stood back and observed. She was extremely grateful to Rossi for lightening the mood and giving her a break from crying.

JJ noticed Emily scanning the room and knew what she was looking for, or rather who. "He's outside."

Emily nodded and then seemed to come to a decision. "I'll be right back."

* * *

><p>She found Morgan outside, sitting on a bench. She paused to look at him for a moment, hunched over with his head in his hands. He didn't see her as she approached and sat down next to him on the bench.<p>

"I know how angry… how hurt you must be. I don't expect that you can forgive me. But I need you to know something, Derek. I remember," she paused. She wanted to be able to say this to him clearly – firmly – but she could stop the tears from spilling and her voice from breaking. She continued anyway.

"I remember you. Holding my hands. Telling me to hang on." The tears overwhelmed her and she had to pause for a moment.

"I remember that I knew – I knew I was going to die. And then you were there. You saved my life Derek. I don't think I would have opened my eyes again if you hadn't been there."

She could see him convulsing; knew that he was crying. But she needed to tell him everything.

"And I still thought that… that was it. But – but I need you to know what you did for me. Holding my hands. Staying by my side. It… it was such a comfort, Derek. It meant everything. I… I'll never forget you, in that moment."

She unsuccessfully tried to choke back a sob. "It was so much more than saving my life, Derek."

His face was still buried in his hands. She wanted to put her arms around him, but was hesitant to push him. She watched him rub his hands over his face. Finally, he turned towards her. He reached out to her and took her face between his hands for a moment as if to confirm that she was really there.

"I meant it, Emily. I meant every word. I'm just… trying to process this. But you have to know that having you back; seeing you again. I… I…" He couldn't find the words to finish his though, but he moved forward and pulled her into a tight hug.

He was very nearly crushing her, but she didn't care. She was so grateful that he cared enough to give her a crushing hug. That he didn't feel so betrayed that he turned her away.

She whispered into his shoulder, "I'm so sorry, Derek."

He pulled her in even tighter into his embrace.

When he finally released her from his grasp, she looked straight into his eyes. "I do trust you, you know. I was scared. I couldn't let you become a target because of me." Her eyes were pleading with him to understand.

"You didn't need to run away from us, Emily."

She had run through every decision so many times. Thought about all the 'what ifs' during all those sleepless nights. She couldn't do it anymore. Instead of arguing with him, she simply asked, "Can you forgive me?"

"You're my girl, Emily. Always."

Relief flooded over her, and she threw her arms around Morgan's neck.

"But don't ever do anything like that again, ok. I mean it. You have to come to me with everything."

He could feel her nodding against his neck.

"Do you know how much I've missed you?" she asked.

She pulled away to see the smile that she'd missed so much.

"We're hitting the bar, girl. Plenty of drinks. And you owe me some dances, too."

She grinned at him. "You got it."

"Tomorrow's Friday, you know…"

"Tomorrow night it is."

He stood up and reached his hand out to help her up. As they walked back into the building, he threw his arm around her shoulders and she leaned into him.

"You can be my wingman," he joked.

She playfully smacked his chest, then reached up to her shoulder to squeeze his hand.

They were still friends; still partners in the way that really counted.


	5. Chapter 5

_AN: Thanks for the reviews. They are very much appreciated._

* * *

><p>Emily and Morgan's bar night turned into a team outing by the time Friday evening came around. Jack was still with his grandparents and Will and JJ hired a babysitter so that Will could join them. Everyone had left work by 7:00 – the earliest the office had been deserted in quite some time. There were celebratory shots on top of the drinks everyone was enjoying. Morgan held Emily to her promise of a few dances. When she begged off claiming fatigue, he promised to harass her until she was back in dance marathon shape.<p>

Several hours passed as the group sat around the table talking. Though it was clear she had been out of the loop for some time, it was comforting to Emily that she and the team still had the same rapport. They knew when to make a joke and when to ease back. They were still able to laugh with each other. She couldn't remember the last time she had a night like this – laughing with friends. It was wonderful. Yet a small part of her was still unable to let loose; to relax. It was the crowd in the bar, and the noise. She'd been off the grid for a year. Avoiding crowds and noise was crucial to being aware of her surroundings and in control.

JJ and Will had left a few minutes before Emily stood to make her way through the crowd to the bathroom. As there were no servers in the bar area, she offered to get the next round from the bar on her way back. Morgan, Rossi and Seaver requested a beer, and Garcia asked for another margarita. Emily, Hotch, and Reid had switched to water earlier.

As she made her way up to the bar to order the round of drinks, a feeling akin to panic took over. Intellectually, she understood that she was safe. Doyle was dead. His fixation with her was personal, so there was no reason to believe anyone else in his organization would try to retaliate or come after her. She was with a table full of FBI agents. She didn't _need_ to know exactly who the people were around her. Not here. Not now. She understood this.

But the bar was crowded. She was surrounded by groups of people she didn't know. Too many to even scan their faces before the configuration of people moved and changed. And the noise… That was the worst part. So many voices. The laughter. The music. It was so loud.

She was overwhelmed. She was in the middle of trying to silently count to ten when the bartender came up and asked what she wanted. Enough time had passed after the bartended asked for her order for him to give her a questioning look. She knew she was being ridiculous. She wanted three beers and a margarita. But she couldn't get the words out. She was gripping the edge of the bar and trying to calm herself down.

"Miss?" the bartender asked. "Do you need a minute to decide?"

Just at that moment, she felt a hand on the small of her back. She flinched for a second, but nearly immediately recognized Hotch. He left his hand on her back, firmly but gently assuring her of his presence next to her, and spoke to the bartender. "Can we get three Heinekens and a margarita, please?"

"No problem." The bartender turned to get their drinks.

* * *

><p>Hotch noticed her when she was walking back from the bathrooms toward the bar. She was opening and closing her hands into a fist and walking very slowly. When he looked more closely at her, she looked shaken. He scanned the area around her. He saw her take a deep breath as she navigated through the crowd to the bar. When she saw her grip the edge of the bar he stood up and made his way towards her.<p>

He carefully placed a hand on the small of her back and ordered the drinks. As the bartender busied himself getting the order together, he rubbed small circles on her back and leaned closer. "It's normal that you might feel… overwhelmed at first. It's just going to take some time to adjust."

She closed her eyes and nodded. "This is so stupid. I'm fine. I don't know why I'm freaking out."

"You've been on hyper-vigilant mode for a year, Emily. It probably wasn't the best idea for us to bring you out to a crowded and noisy bar your third day back."

"No. No, really. I'm having a great time. I just…" she shook her head as if to shake off the feelings of anxiety. "Thank you for coming over. That poor bartender probably thought I was having a stroke."

Said bartender came back then with their order. It wasn't until he reached to grab two of the glasses that he realized his hand was still on Emily's back. He somewhat awkwardly removed it as he picked up two mugs of beer. As he did so, he noticed what looked like a slight blush on Emily's face. She looked up at him for a second as she reached for the margarita and third glass of beer and gave him a small smile. He couldn't say for certain whether it was an embarrassed smile for her little "freak out," or if it was something else. Something in his gut was telling him it was the latter. And he realized as he followed her back to the table that he had no earthly idea how he felt about that.

* * *

><p>It had been a relatively quiet week at the BAU. Emily had coffee with Rossi on Monday morning before her first appearance back at the office in Quantico. She decided to get her meeting with Strauss and some of the other FBI brass out of the way. Though she certainly wasn't excited about the meetings, she felt strangely liberated knowing that she wasn't technically an agent anymore. The debriefing didn't last as long as she feared it would, and neither side announced any decisions or intentions.<p>

She and Reid went to a movie Tuesday night. She knew they'd have to talk about everything that happened over the last year at some point, but she was happy that they seemed to be able to connect like they had before. She got a new phone almost immediately, and had been texting with JJ regularly.

Today – Wednesday – she was meeting Garcia for lunch. Emily had picked up an extra large Athena pizza and headed to Quantico in the car she had rented for the week. She was still staying at the hotel, but had plans to meet with her old landlord about getting a new apartment. He seemed willing to give her a lease despite her current lack of employment. She was very glad that she'd left her trust fund relatively untouched.

Emily went straight to Garcia's lair when she got off the elevators. They had just opened the pizza box when they heard a knock followed by the appearance of Hotch at the door. "Garcia, can you –"

He stopped mid-sentence when he looked into the room and saw her.

"Emily. I'm sorry, I didn't know you were in here."

"What can I do for you, boss man?" Garcia asked.

"Nothing that can't wait until you're finished with lunch. Sorry for interrupting."

"Are you hungry? I went a little overboard on the pizza here. You should join us," Emily said. She had spoken to him on the phone twice since the Friday bar night, but hadn't seen him since then.

Seeing him hesitate, Garcia chimed in, "This is like, the best pizza ever, Hotch. Trust me when I tell you that you want this for lunch."

"Alright then," Hotch replied with a small smile. He pulled up the remaining extra chair next to Emily and reached for a slice. He stayed for about forty-five minutes as they ate and talked before excusing himself to go back to work.

Emily asked Penelope what her plans were for the weekend and looked up from her plate when she got no response. "Pen?"

"What? Sorry my pet. The wheels are turning up here," she said, tapping her forehead with her finger.

"Should I be scared?" Emily asked, only partly in jest.

"Are you officially an FBI employee in our chain of command anymore?"

"Well, it's a little unclear. But I'm not getting any paychecks, I don't have credentials, and I have to sign in and wear a visitor tag in the building, so I'd say probably not, officially." She paused. "Why?"

"Hotch never hangs out in the breakroom. I've never seen him so much as have a cup of coffee with anyone during the day. He was in here for like, over 45 minutes. That's 30 minutes longer than he ever takes for lunch."

"Garcia? Wh—"

"The wheels are turning, my dear."

Garcia paused, and then continued. "I think he's smitten. With you, specifically."

"What? Garcia, no. Changing up your routine because someone came back from the dead doesn't mean you're '_smitten_.'"

"But you didn't come back from the dead for him. I mean, he knew you were alive, which means he just wanted to sit next to you for forty-five minutes."

"Garcia! You are reading way, _way_ too far into things."

"Oh my god you're blushing!" Garcia exclaimed in one rushed breath.

"I am not."

"I'm not even going to ask if anything happened between you two because, though I love you both dearly, you're both way too socially awkward to have pulled yourselves together and done something about it. And I mean that in a nice way."

"Garcia, I'm begging you –"

"Ok, ok. I'll stop. But I stand by my hunches. And I think it would be… wonderful. For you both. But I promise not to lock you in a closet together or anything."

"You're crazy. I mean _that _in a nice way."

They cleaned up the remains of the Athena pizza and Emily gathered her things to go. "Can I say one more thing?" Garcia asked.

"I don't think I can stop you," Emily said with a smile.

"It was like that at the bar, too. He had his eyes on you the whole time. And not in a Unit Chief/subordinate kind of way."

"Goodbye Garcia. Call me later about that movie marathon," Emily said, turning to walk out the door before Garcia could see her get flustered for a second time.


	6. Chapter 6

_AN: Thanks again for the reviews. _

It only took Emily a few weeks to get more or less resettled in DC, during which she had seen and talked to the team on a regular basis. She had leased a car and found an apartment. Most of her furniture had been moved in from storage. She had made a few trips to IKEA to pick up a few odds and ends, and had a few things yet set up, but she was at the stage where she was ready to invite the team over for a poker night.

She was at the office, where she had just finished lunch with JJ. They were discussing the agenda for the night.

"Don't bring anything, really." Emily told her. "You guys are busy here. I literally have nothing better to do than shop and get food and drinks ready."

JJ was walking with Emily to the elevators when they spotted Hotch coming down the hall.

"Emily," he called out.

"Hey, Hotch."

"Do you have a second to stop by my office? Strauss wants you to sign off on your statements."

"Yeah, of course."

"I'll see you tonight then, Em." JJ said. The way she looked at the two of them and the smirk on her face led Emily to believe that Garcia had shared her little theory about them with JJ.

"So what can I bring tonight?" Hotch asked as they made their way up the steps to his office.

"Nothing, honestly. I have plenty of food and even more to drink."

He smiled at that.

"You know, you can bring Jack if you want," she continued.

"He'll be at a sleepover at his cousin's house. His third one. The first one didn't work out so well. The second one he had, and I quote, 'the funnest time ever.' So it's 50/50 how things will go tonight. I may get an SOS call."

"Fair enough," Emily said as Hotch rummaged through the files on his desk. "By the way, you have to let me know when his next soccer game is."

"He plays tomorrow afternoon, actually. But please, don't feel obligated to go."

"I want to, really. Watching a herd of little kids chase after a soccer ball sounds… great, actually."

He paused to look up at her. Ordinarily, he would be suspicious of any sane adult who would voluntarily attend a children's soccer game if they were not the parent of one of the players. It's wasn't exactly thrilling entertainment. But he understood what Emily meant. It was easy to forget about your nightmares, about all the evil in the world, when you were watching a group of 5 and 6 year-olds run around in a pack and try to kick a soccer ball that was nearly up to their knees.

"Well then, prepare yourself for a skills showcase," Hotch joked.

"I will _prepare_ myself for cuteness overload," Emily retorted with a smile.

He found the file he was looking for and handed it over to her.

"So do you think I need to read every word? Will I find out in a week that I've just signed a statement admitting to embezzlement or counterfeiting money or something?"

"I guess that depends on how Strauss seemed to you during your meeting."

"Eh, I'd rather not go through all this again," she said, flipping through the pages. She wasn't joking about that, Hotch could tell. He decided to change the subject as she signed the documents.

"So are you really ready to invite this crew into your new place? Reid could probably give you the statistical probability that he's going to spill or break something."

Emily laughed. "Well, my old stuff is old, and my new stuff is from IKEA. I'm not worried."

"And you're all settled in?"

"I have a writing desk to put together, then I think I'm good. Not looking forward to that though. The box is really, really small; yet somehow really, really heavy."

"If you want, I can come over a little earlier tonight and help." The words were out of his mouth before he even had time to think about them.

"That would be really great, actually. I had a cart to get it to my car, but honestly, I don't even think I'd be able to lug it up to my apartment by myself."

"Alright. Well I'll just call you when I'm on my way then?"

"Perfect. Thanks, Hotch."

"It's no problem."

"See you later," she said, turning toward the door.

Hotch nodded and sat back down at his desk and was immediately lost in thought.

It wasn't so much that he had offered to go over to her place to help her assemble furniture that had him thinking. It was the completely unexpected flash of eagerness that overtook him when she mentioned the desk – the feeling of an opportunity. An opportunity to help her, yes, but mostly to spend time with her. And he had jumped at it. He couldn't remember, but he wouldn't be surprised if he had actually leaned forward in his zeal.

He was too smart to try to convince himself it was anything other than what it was. He wanted to spend time with her. The realization hit him with a surprising degree of bewilderment: he was… interested in her. Emily. It was the logistics of it all that confused him most. Creating timelines was a part of his job. He decided it wouldn't hurt to use some of the techniques he used on a case to examine this development. He'd known her for years, so why was he getting this feeling every time he saw her now?

She was back from the dead. Was he just confusing his being glad that she was alive with real feelings for her? He dismissed that possibility. He knew that she was alive. The emotional upheaval the rest of the team was experiencing was not applicable to him.

She was back from a year off the grid hunting an international criminal. Was he just relieved that she was safe and back home? He'd seen enough danger in his life to know what relief felt like. This wasn't it.

Then where were these feelings suddenly coming from? Why now? She'd always been a beautiful. That wasn't a secret, and he couldn't say it had escaped his notice before. She was the same Emily, wasn't she? Except that she seemed more relaxed. No, not relaxed, per se. It was that he sensed that she was more comfortable in her own skin now. Calmer.

As he thought about the subtle changes he'd noticed in her, he realized that he had changed just as much, if not more. _He _was more comfortable in his own skin. He could let loose a little more easily. He could joke around, and appreciate it when others did. He wasn't just a hard-ass drill sergeant.

And he wasn't her supervisor anymore. Whatever boundaries existed in their relationship now would be because they created them – not because of any code of conduct. This was something he hadn't considered until now. He had to deliberately stop himself from smiling at the realization. But… he scolded himself… this was all in his head. Just because his feelings for her had changed didn't mean hers had. In all probability they hadn't.

And yet, he couldn't stop himself from remembering little things that might be evidence that she was feeling something for him too. There was still a bit of the lawyer in him, collecting evidence to tip the burden of proof. Little smiles. He thought he'd noticed her blush once or twice when they were laughing together. She asked him about Jack all the time now, which could be seen as an interest in his personal life.

He wished he had more experience with this sort of thing. For all he knew, he could be reading everything completely wrong. And the last thing he wanted to do was make her feel uncomfortable.

He realized he'd been staring at the same piece of paper for over a half hour. If he wanted to get out of the office and gauge his feelings around Emily (now that he had admitted that he did feel something), he needed to finish signing off on the stack of reports in front of him. And with that, he got back to work.


	7. Chapter 7

_AN: Thanks for the reviews. They are appreciated. Those of you who have ever assembled IKEA furniture should appreciate just how frustrating it can be..._

* * *

><p>Emily's apartment looked like a disaster zone. There was cardboard, packaging materials, and pieces of desk strewn about her living room. She and Hotch were sitting next to each other on the floor. Hotch was examining the instructions while Emily was messing around with one of the many pieces trying to see how they fit together.<p>

"Wait. I think we have these on backwards," Hotch said. He wasn't one to lose his temper over trivial things, but he was quickly realizing that IKEA furniture assembly would test even the most stoic personalities.

"What?"

"These parts that the legs attach to."

"The part on the inside of this other part?"

"Yes."

"Oh my god. So we have to take all these off then turn these around and put all eight parts back on again?"

"Yes."

"I think my hand is going to fall off."

"I can get the outside parts, but your hands are smaller. The inside ones are all you."

They stared at the desk, upside down and legless on the floor.

Hotch turned toward Emily and asked, "If I promise to buy you a new, fully assembled desk, can I take this one to the shooting range?"

"Yes. I give up. You go shoot the desk, and I'm going to lay on the floor in despair," Emily replied. Hotch chuckled as he watched her lean back into the pile of packaging debris. As she stretched backwards, Hotch noticed that her t-shirt had ridden up, exposing some skin between her jeans and shirt. He froze for a moment, staring. When he was finally able to control his brain again, he was relieved to note that Emily was staring up at the ceiling and wouldn't have caught him looking.

Though this certainly wasn't a romantic occasion, he was quickly realizing that his feelings for Emily were not just friendly. He realized it a little more every time their hands, arms, and legs touched as they worked together to assemble the desk.

He couldn't resist putting his hand on her knee as he said, "Ok. Finishing this can't be worse than it would be to carry all these pieces out of here."

She looked up at him and smiled. He thought that she looked relaxed. It was a real smile, despite her frustrated mood. His hand was still on her knee.

"Fine," she sighed.

Emily reached a hand out, and Hotch pulled her up back into a sitting position.

* * *

><p>Putting this desk together was actually a fairly intense physical activity. She hoped that Hotch would assume that's what was making her appear flushed. She couldn't deny the glimmer of hope she felt when Garcia announced that she thought Hotch was <em>smitten <em>with her. But she wouldn't let herself believe that she was right. Hotch had changed while she was away. He was less reserved. That's what this was, she told herself – he's just expressing himself in a way he didn't used to; it didn't mean anything more than that - they're friends and he's glad she's safe.

She always thought that he was handsome. That was nothing new. But that didn't explain the butterflies she got when she was around him now, or why she always looked forward to seeing him – wanted to spend time with him. Something had changed. But she didn't know why. Aside from their time apart, the biggest event between her feelings _then _and her feelings _now_ was her change in status. He wasn't her boss anymore. And that change seemed to have freed them both in their interactions with each other. They never addressed it outright, but it was clear they were both aware. Supervisor Hotch never would have volunteered to come over to her place, alone, to help her settle in to her new apartment. Supervisor Hotch wouldn't have touched her knee. Subordinate Emily would have checked her teasing or sarcastic comments with a "sir." Subordinate Emily wouldn't have reached her hand out to him. SSAs Hotchner and Prentiss wouldn't have allowed themselves to hold on for that extra second. They wouldn't have felt that rush of emotion. They wouldn't have needed to hurriedly look away from each other.

"Ok then. Let's finish this thing before Reid shows up and embarrasses us for not being able to follow a simple diagram," she said.

It took them another forty minutes to assemble the desk. For each of them, it was forty minutes of being acutely aware of their close proximity to one another.

* * *

><p>The poker night went well. Everyone had fun, with Reid emerging as the ultimate winner. By the time midnight rolled around, only Hotch and JJ were left at her apartment. As much as Hotch wanted to stay, he didn't think he should be the first to arrive and the last to leave. Rossi had caught him staring at Emily at least once that night. He tried to play if off, of course, but he was pretty sure he'd be hearing about it at some point. So he said goodnight and made his way to the door. Emily walked with him, and JJ stayed in the kitchen to help clean up.<p>

"Thanks again for your help with the desk."

"You're welcome. It looks pretty good, I have to say."

"It does. I hope one day I can stop hating it for what it put us through," she joked.

He laughed. "Well, goodnight. I'll talk to you soon."

"The game!" Emily blurted as he turned to leave. "Don't forget to text me the directions."

"I'll do that on my way to the car." He was pleased that she remembered and was actually planning on coming. "See you tomorrow, then."

"Yeah, see you tomorrow." She smiled.

Hotch left and Emily went back to the kitchen to try to get JJ to stop cleaning. "JJ, seriously. Sit down. I can get all that tomorrow."

"Fine, fine." She sat down at the table and Emily did the same. "That was fun. I didn't realize it was so late. I'm surprised everyone made it," JJ said, then snuck a glance at Emily as she added, "Even Hotch."

"Yeah, it was fun. And no collateral damage to the new place," Emily responded.

JJ knew that Emily understood where she was going with her comment about Hotch. She took Emily's change of subject as a signal not to push. Despite their year apart, she still knew Emily; knew that if she pushed, Emily might just pull too far in the other direction – the direction _away _from Hotch. So she backed off. "So tell the truth, did you let Spence win?"

"Actually, no," Emily laughed. "Not this time."

"Alright, well Will is probably wondering where I am. I'm going to take off. Thanks for a fun night."

Emily walked JJ to the door and sent her off with a hug.

* * *

><p>When Emily arrived at the soccer field the next morning, Hotch and Rossi were already there, watching as the kids warmed up on the field.<p>

Hotch saw her approaching and waved her over. She stood talking with Hotch and Rossi for a few minutes when Jack ran up to them.

"Daddy, when do we start?"

"Not for another ten minutes, buddy." Hotch noticed Jack look curiously at Emily. "Jack, this is daddy's friend, Emily. You met her before, but you might not remember it."

Emily kneeled down on the grass so she could be at the same level as Jack. "Hey, Jack. I hear you're a pretty awesome soccer player."

The boy grinned at this and nodded his head. "I scored a goal last week!"

"You did? That's great!"

"Yeah, and we winned the game!"

"That's really cool, Jack! I'm sure you're gonna do great today, too."

"I have to go practice now. Are you going to watch me play?"

"I am. Now go have fun out there." Emily sent him off with a smile. Jack ran a few steps and then turned back to look at Emily again. She waved, and he waved back before running off to kick a ball that had strayed away from another group of kids.

Rossi had watched Jack and Emily's exchange with a smile on his face. As adorable as it was, he couldn't help but turn his attention to the older Hotchner as he watched his son talk to Emily. Hotch had checked himself when Rossi caught him staring at Emily the previous night. But Dave was pretty sure that there was nothing that would cause him to tear his gaze away from Emily and his son right now.

Emily couldn't remember the last time she'd seen anything cuter than this game. Some of the kids were totally focused on chasing the ball around. Some of them lost interest and started picked at the grass. Some of them seemed content to just sort of half-heartedly jog around the field. Seconds before the game ended, Jack scored a goal. When the ref blew the final whistle, Jack sprinted over to the sideline.

"EMILY! I scored a goal!"

"I saw that, buddy! You did awesome!" she beamed at him.

Jack was literally hopping up and down when he excitedly shouted again, "Daddy! I scored a goal!"

"You did great! Did you have fun?" Hotch asked.

"Yes!"

Jack ran back over to Emily and started giving her a play-by-play recap of the game as Hotch and Rossi started picking up the soccer balls and discarded juice boxes along the sideline.

"Funny, isn't it?" Rossi said, in a casual tone, "How kids seem to latch on to certain people right away." He nodded toward Jack still talking excitedly to Emily. They were both sitting cross-legged on the grass now.

"You jealous, Dave?" Hotch replied, as he turned to look over at his son and saw him sitting on the grass and talking with Emily. The sight made him pause for a moment. He bit back a smile and resumed cleaning up.

Rossi laughed, but decided not to press the issue. He had watched Hotch's reaction to his comment and decided that that was enough, for now. It wasn't quite time for him to give Hotch a little push.


	8. Chapter 8

_AN: Thanks to those of you who have reviewed._

* * *

><p>The team had been called away on a case on Sunday afternoon. They spent a grueling five days in Wisconsin, finally catching the Unsub in a well-executed raid of his suburban home. Reid, Seaver, and Morgan were at the hotel packing for the trip home. Hotch, JJ, and Rossi were at the local police station cleaning up and organizing their case files. Rossi and JJ were sitting at the conference table, sorting through which papers they needed to keep, and which to recycle. Hotch was clearing off the board the team had used when his phone beeped. There was nothing unusual about that, but what did catch Rossi and JJ's attention was the little chuckle that escaped from their Unit Chief when he read the text message. He quickly composed himself, typed out a reply, and stuffed the phone back into his pocket before removing the last few photographs from the board.<p>

Without exactly lifting her head, JJ snuck a glance over at Rossi. He noticed her action and met her eyes. He had been a profiler long enough to read her look – she wanted to know if he noticed what had just happened and had any reaction to it.

"We're just about finished here, Aaron. Why don't you go pull the car around?" Rossi said.

"Sure," Hotch replied. If he noticed anything peculiar about the request, he didn't show it.

As soon as Hotch was a safe distance away, Rossi turned his attention to JJ. "What's with the look?"

"What _look_?"

Rossi studied her for a moment. "Aaron Hotchner just _giggled_ at a message on his phone, and then you got a _look_. Do you know who the message was from?"

Something about the way he asked the question caused JJ to pause and take her turn to study him for a moment. "Do _you_ know who it was?"

"No." He replied evenly.

"Me either."

After a beat, JJ turned her attention back to the stacks of papers in front of her, tossing one into the recycle bin next to the table.

"But," Rossi continued, causing JJ's head to snap back up and face him, "I might have a theory."

Her eyes narrowed, and she had to bite the inside of her mouth to keep from smiling.

"And I'm guessing by _that _look, you might have a theory too," Rossi concluded.

"Ok, spill it, Rossi."

Rossi leaned back in his chair. "If I was a betting man, I'd put my money on Emily."

"What do you know?" JJ almost lunged forward in her chair at the prospect of getting more intel on the pair.

"Only what I've seen. He stares at her when she's not looking. I don't even know if he knows he's doing it... That dopey grin he gets when she's around. He sees her as woman now, not a subordinate agent. And I think he likes what he sees." He paused, with a smile. "Since you're not disagreeing with me, I take it you had the same idea?"

"Yep. I've hinted around it, and I think she's into him too."

"What makes you say that?"

"Every time I've ever talked to her about liking a guy, she would either admit it, or tell me straight up that that I was crazy or she wasn't feeling it. She's never been evasive."

"And she's being evasive now?"

"Pretty sure she actually _blushed_."

"Well wait, you said she'd tell you if she liked a guy. Why wouldn't she just say she liked Hotch?"

"Because it's Hotch! He's our boss, her old boss, we've all known him for years. It would be awkward as it is, without the ordeal everyone's gone through over the last year. Plus… It's Hotch."

"So you've said," Rossi deadpanned.

JJ rolled her eyes at him. "He's loosened up a little, but he's not exactly easy to read. I don't think Emily would ever make the first move for fear of humiliating herself. Do you think Hotch would?"

"I don't know. He's...," Rossi paused, "Hotch."

"Exactly," JJ sighed.

"So they spin themselves in circles around each other and we're reduced to gossiping junior high kids," Rossi summarized.

"We need a note that says 'Do you like me? Circle Yes or No.'"

Rossi laughed, and then noticed that a serious expression had taken over JJ's face.

"Do you think it would be a bad idea? Like, it's too soon?" she asked.

"It's not too soon for him. And honestly, I think Emily is doing great after everything she's gone through. I think she'd be waiting for the sake of waiting, not because she wasn't ready to move on with her life. Do you think it would be a bad idea?"

"No," JJ replied, simply. "I think it would be great for them. Do you have any ideas?"

"I wish. Neither one of them responds too well to people poking into their personal lives."

"And they're also both incredibly stubborn."

"So no overt pushing."

"Right," JJ agreed. "But if we happened to start planning more happy hours, get-togethers, – for the team – that wouldn't be pushing."

"Team bonding has proven to be beneficial to morale – as has having Emily around."

"I like the way you think, Mr. Rossi."

They shared a conspiratorial grin as Hotch walked back into the room to announce that the car was out front.

* * *

><p>Emily and JJ met for lunch the day after the team got back, and the day before Rossi's dinner party. JJ's intent was to get a feel for Emily's state of mind and to confirm Rossi's assessment.<p>

"So how are you doing, really?" JJ asked, not having to fake concern for her friend.

"Honesly, JJ, I'm good."

"It's ok if you're not, you know."

"I know. But I really do feel... free. And settled, at the same time, if that makes sense."

"That's good, Em."

"I know I need to figure out what I want to do in terms of a job, but I like my new place. It's nice to have a home base again. And I can't even begin to tell you how amazing you and the rest of the team have been."

"We're happy to have you back," JJ smiled.

"And," Emily paused, seemingly hesitant to reveal what she was about to confide in JJ, "I've been sleeping better since I started seeing someone."

"Seeing someone?" JJ blurted out. She managed to collect herself before her jaw hit the table.

"'_Someone_' as in a psychologist, JJ." Emily shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

JJ tried to hide her relief at this clarification. "Oh. I'm glad. I mean, I think that's a very good thing. Even better if you've really noticed that it's helping."

"Not that you guys haven't been great, but it's helped to kind of sort out everything that's happened with a disinterested party."

"I get that. And it really is good that you're doing it, Em."

"So are you going to tell me why you almost fell out of your chair when I said I was seeing someone? I assume you thought I meant I was seeing a guy?"

"What? No, I was just... I hadn't heard you mention anyone." JJ let a few seconds go by. "Have you talked to your mother lately?"

She may not be a behavioral expert, but she knew that Emily was starting to get suspicious, and she knew exactly how to divert her attention.

* * *

><p>Though Hotch, understandably, didn't want to be apart from Jack the week they returned from Wisconsin, he did agree to go when Rossi announced he was having everyone – including Emily – over to his place for dinner that Saturday. Rossi made it a point to clarify that Jack was invited, and that Will and Henry were coming as well.<p>

Shortly after everyone arrived, Rossi announced that dinner was ready. Hotch got Jack settled into his chair.

"Sit by me, Emily," Jack instructed from his seat at the table as she walked into Rossi's dining room.

"Jack, that wasn't very polite," Hotch scolded.

"Can you please sit by me, Emily?" the young Hotchner called out to her.

"I would love to, Jack," she responded.

Emily spent the first part of the meal conversing with Jack about his favorite and least favorite foods, and his father's culinary skills. Hotch joined in the conversation to add anecdotes about those 'least favorite foods' and defend his cooking.

None of these interactions - none of the smiles, the little looks when they thought the other wasn't watching - went unnoticed by JJ, Rossi, or Garcia.

The grown-ups stayed at the dinner table for over an hour after they had finished eating and Henry and Jack went back to their toys.

That hour was long enough for several bottles of wine to be emptied. At some point, Rossi threw out the idea of sitting on the patio and enjoying the unusually warm evening.

JJ got Henry and Jack settled on two of the couches in Rossi's living room and found a Disney movie for them to watch. Everyone but the kids, Hotch, and Rossi moved outside.

Hotch stayed inside to help Rossi clear the table and clean up the kitchen. Rossi had had just enough wine to bring out the feisty Italian side of him. The side of him that had little patience for Hotch's cautiousness and stoicism. He had had just enough wine to want to have _more_ wine in order to amp up the fiesty Italian side of him and give Hotch a shove rather than a push. He hadn't forgotten his conversation with JJ only a few days ago, but he would be damned if he didn't make Hotch acknowledge what was going on in light of the way they were practically glowing around each other at dinner.

He took another swig of Chianti as Hotch brought the last dishes in from the dining room.

"Aaron, I'm going to level with you."

Hotch's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Something wrong, Dave?"

"You have to make the first move. You have to reach out to her. She can't. She still feels like she let us all down. You, in particular. She won't be able to do it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hotch shifted uncomfortably.

"_Emily_," Rossi said, with emphasis.

"Dave, I don't -"

"Yes you do," Rossi interrupted. "It's obvious. And it's mutual, if that's what you're worried about." He paused to let that sink in. "And there's no reason in the world not to go for it."

"She's been through a lot. I don't want to make her feel pressured. She needs the support of friends."

"And she has that. But she doesn't need you to treat her like a victim either."

"That's not what I'm doing."

"You didn't deny that you have feelings for her. I thought I'd have to fight with you to get you to admit that much. I think that _you_ think you'd somehow be taking advantage of her if you tried to start up a relationship. That's not the case, Aaron."

"It just seems..." Hotch trailed off.

"Inappropriate? You're not her supervisor anymore."

Rossi studied the man standing across from him in his kitchen. He had been close to understanding the reason for Hotch's fears, but was just off the mark. He could read those fears now in Hotch's body language.

"Aaron - she knows you. Probably as well as anyone else. If she wants to be with you, and I think she does, you need to trust her to make her own decisions."

"I'm not good at this, Dave. I'm screwed up. I don't want to inflict that on her."

"That's garbage, Aaron. She would kick your ass out the door before she let you screw anything up for her." He paused again. "She's seen the worst with her own eyes. She _knows_ you."

Hotch still wasn't making eye contact with Rossi, choosing instead to stare at one particular tile on the floor. "And there's Jack."

"Jack is crazy about Emily. She'd be good for him. She'd be another adult who loves and cares for him. That could only be a good thing."

Hotch finally looked up at Rossi. Dave took this as a good sign and concluded, "I think you're looking for excuses. And I think you know that everything I've said is right. Don't pass up something that could be great for all three of you because you're afraid, or out of some of some wrong-headed notion that you're protecting her."

With that, Rossi grabbed a bottle of wine and walked outside to join his other guests.


	9. Chapter 9

**So, I actually sort of forgot about this story that I started about 100 years ago. But some commenters got me thinking about it again, and I became convinced that I really should give it an ending. Apologies if it seems a bit rushed, but… an ending! Thanks again for reading and to those who have taken the time to comment.**

_Six Weeks Later_

It was not a date. Emily had just finished her first week as the Unit Chief of a special team at the DC Interpol office that analyzed extreme political groups around the world. The goal was to anticipate, and prevent, politically motivated violence of all kinds. And though they had kept in contact almost daily via email, phone, and the occasional team outing, they had still planned this dinner for the two of them to 'catch up' and talk about her first week. Really though, he had stopped even trying to fool himself. He had acknowledged his feelings for her weeks ago.

He knew that Rossi knew. From the way JJ smirked every time he so much as said Emily's name, he figured that she knew as well. Garcia seemed to know everything about… well, everything, and didn't exactly have a poker face. What he didn't know is what Emily felt. And as his feelings grew stronger and harder to suppress every minute he was around her, he knew he was going to have to do something.

He'd realized that Rossi was right. She didn't need him to protect her or treat her like glass. She was resilient and strong. She didn't need anyone to help her get her life back, because she _took_ it back all on her own. She was leading a prestigious team at Interpol, for heaven's sake.

So when they talked about grabbing dinner and she said she could do Friday or Saturday – whichever he preferred – he didn't choose Friday when Jack could have joined them. He chose Saturday, when Jessica and her new fiancé (thoroughly vetted by Hotch, of course) was taking Jack overnight to a waterpark out of town with his soon-to-be step-cousins. He did feel little guilty about that for Jack's sake – he would have loved to spend an evening with Emily. He didn't feel bad enough to regret his decision though. Plus, she had promised to go to Jack's soccer game on Sunday afternoon.

_It's not a date_. Repeating this to himself didn't seem to help. He changed several times. He didn't want to be too formal and freak her out. (Friends don't get dressed up to go eat with friends and talk about their new jobs.) But he didn't want to be too casual either. (What if she dressed up? It would be insulting to show up in jeans and a casual shirt.) He gave himself a metaphorical slap across the face, shut his closet door, and decided that tonight was the night he was going to do… something. If she told him she wasn't interested in him like that, they would get over it. He was confident they would be fine no matter what. They'd been through too much together. Their bond was solid and deep. At the core of their relationship was a deep respect, and that would certainly persevere over any potential embarrassment. At least he would know where he stood. And he would stop being so… 'ridiculous,' he thought, looking at the heap of rejected clothing piled on his bed. Yes, it would be painful and awkward for a while if he told her how he felt and she turned him down. But he simply couldn't go on like this.

When she opened her apartment door, he was at first relieved to see that he had landed on the right decision. Her burgundy shirt dress and heeled sandals seemed to go quite nicely with his gray pants and black polo. The second thing he noticed was that she looked beautiful. Then again, he had been noticing that every time he saw her of late.

She was sure that he must have noticed that she was acting strangely, yet she couldn't seem to force herself to relax. Or at least appear to be relaxed. She nearly jumped off the curb when their hands brushed as they walked toward the restaurant. It only got worse when the host sat them down at their table. She was babbling and avoiding eye contact. He was a well trained and very skilled profiler. There's no way he wouldn't notice.

She really wished she could recall exactly how this dinner had come about. They were out with the team, having a side conversation (which, of course, did not go unnoticed by Garcia and JJ). He congratulated her on her new job and told her he wanted to hear how her first week went. At some point later on, she mentioned she wanted to try the new restaurant around the corner from her apartment. And, somehow, they were here now checking in for their reservation.

If it was anyone but Hotch, she would be sure it was a date. It was the classic lead-up. Someone mentions they want to try this restaurant. Someone else says, yeah, they've heard about that place and it sounds interesting. They should check it out sometime. Are you free any day next week? And boom, it's a date.

Part of her wanted to wait until they had finished their meal before doing what she was about to do. At least then if she was horribly off-base, they wouldn't have to sit through a painfully awkward dinner. But she told herself that this was ridiculous. And Emily Prentiss was decidedly _not _a ridiculous person. So she decided to just come out with it, so to speak – though she did wait until the waitress brought them their glasses of wine. And so with a sip of wine for courage (a sip of wine that amounted to half the glass) she finally made eye contact with him across the table and asked, "Is this a date?"

The gulp of whine she had just downed had taken him aback, so it took an extra second for him to process what she'd said.

"_Is this a date?"_

OK then. He had been steeling himself all day. Trying to build his courage to be bold, make a move, _do something._ And here she was, just… coming out with it. OK then.

Out with it.

"I… don't know." So much for being bold and decisive.

"Oh." She looked deflated, and he wanted to literally slap himself across the face for making her feel that way.

"No, I mean, I don't remember how we even decided to come here. It just sort of, came together."

"Right." She didn't look any less deflated. He wasn't doing very well. Time for a deep breath.

"I wish I would have asked you out. On a date."

She looked up at him with a cautious smile tugging at the corners of her lips. That was better.

He continued, "You asked me if this is a date. And, I guess my answer is, I don't know, but I want it to be." He was firmly staring down at his place setting by the end of that sentence. He may have summoned the courage to say his piece, but that didn't mean he felt comfortable or confident doing it.

He knew he was blushing profusely now, but he forced himself to bite the bullet and look up at her. Her smile was radiant, and no effort on his part could have suppressed the smile from lighting up his face.

"Well then," she said, picking up her wine glass and holding it toward him, "here's to our first date." It was a sentiment he happily toasted to as he touched his glass to hers.

Labeling their evening "A Date" did not seem to place any awkwardness on their conversations or behavior for the rest of the dinner. They talked as easily as ever, the only difference being the sly looks and smiles they couldn't seem to hold back.

They took their time walking back to her apartment.

"Do you want to come in for coffee?" she asked as they both lingered outside her apartment door. "Really, just coffee," she clarified as she saw 100 different emotions race across his face in the two seconds after she asked. "I don't want to screw this up by rushing anything, but it's early still and I've had a great time with you tonight." Now it was her turn to blush. "I mean, if you need to get home, maybe we – "

"No. No, I'd very much like to come in for some coffee."

An hour and a half later, they were each finishing their second cup of coffee, sitting on her couch and talking about how intense children's soccer leagues could be. Emily noticed a slight change in his demeanor. "Is something worrying you about Jack?"

"No. That's not…" He took a breath and continued, "I'm just going to lay this out there, Emily. I have no idea what I'm doing. How to date someone, I mean. I just… I have no idea what I'm doing. So, I'm just going to be straightforward, even though that's probably not how you're supposed to do this kind of thing. I have feelings for you. I… I really do. And truthfully, I think you could do a lot better than me. I have a young son, and, well, you know how it is with the BAU. But if you feel something for me too, I really want to give this a shot. So if you give me a chance and I screw something up or if I'm missing something, or whatever, please just talk to me, because I have no idea what I'm doing. As I said."

The moment he finished his _outburst_ (he thought there was nothing else to call it), he began freaking out on several levels. He was sure he came on too strong, too fast, revealed too much, put too much pressure on her.

She had no idea what to say to that. She could try to assure him that he was much more of a catch than he thought he was. Or explain to him that his feelings were definitely not one-sided. Or tell him that she was not exactly adept in the romance department either. But she decided that she had babbled enough that night. They both had. And she knew another way to get her point across. So with one hand fisted in his shirt, and one wrapped around his shoulder, she pulled him to her and kissed him.

It only took a second for him to react. Her legs had been curled up under her on the couch, and she used this leverage to lean into him. He turned his body into hers as her hands snaked around the back of his neck. One hand on her hip, his other hand ran through her hair before gliding down her neck. That hand took a small detour to play along her collar bone before tracing back up her neck as they both slowed down and eventually broke apart for air. The kiss was exhilarating and passionate and left each of them wondering if the other was just a naturally talented kisser, or if they really did just fit that well together.

"Wow." He exhaled, their foreheads still touching.

"Yeah."

"So, we're going to do this?" he asked, unable to keep the hopefulness out of his voice.

"We are," she replied with a smile.

They leaned back into the couch. She added, as he put an arm around her and pulled her against his chest, "I think we should just… use our instincts. We don't need to worry about the normal dating rules, because, well," she laughed, "we're not normal." She looked up at him and he smiled down at her, placing a soft kiss on her lips.

"No, we certainly are not."

_Six Months Later_

"So what do you have planned? Fancy dinner and ring with dessert? Midnight cruise on the Potomac?" Rossi asked, leaning on the jewelry case where Hotch had just picked out a ring and handed over his credit card.

"I don't know. I'm just going to use my instincts," Hotch responded.

Rossi spent several weeks gloating after Hotch and Emily came clean with the team about their relationship. And as much as he knew he'd have to put up with more of his friend's gloating when he asked him to help pick out an engagement ring, Hotch couldn't deny that the man had good taste in the finer things in life. And his instincts told him that Rossi would have a sense of what Emily would like.

His instincts did not fail him. Emily loved the ring. Almost, but not quite as much, as the proposal.


End file.
